Ghosts
by Kassandra Black
Summary: "Nothing is true; everything is permitted" – a creed Gianni has lived by her entire life. After meeting Ezio, she starts to realize just how close those words are to her own personal life. Haunted by the tragedies of their past, both Gianni and Ezio must learn to open their hearts to the truth in order to look toward the future. ACII as told through 1000 word vignettes. Ezio/OC.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: My first foray into the AC world. This story has been a long time coming. Started off as a small idea as I played ACII and only recently fleshed out to become a full-fledged story. **

**The story will revolve around my OC, Gianni. Some aspects of ACII have been altered to fit Gianni into Ezio's storyline (No big changes, I swear! And I'll make sure to make a note of it at the beginning of the chapter so everyone knows what's happening). As mentioned in the summary, the chapters will be in 1000 word vignettes...give or take a few words. ;)**

**A special thanks to quantumparadigm, iNf3ctioNZ, and TheRev28 for listening to my constant badgering of the Italian Renaissance and patiently answering all my questions. :D**

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**Firenze, 1466**

Her dark hair flew wildly behind her, small body light and agile as she soared from rooftop to rooftop. Quick feet padded quietly around the guards while they patrolled with their lighted torches. She kept to the shadows, using the cover of the night to her advantage just as her father had taught her.

The journal she had stolen was clutched possessively to her chest. It had been surprisingly easy to retain the object. A simple diversion had set up her con, leading away the occupants of the house she had been sent to mark. After that, it was just a matter of slipping in and out without being seen - a ghost, so to speak. And even if she was caught...well, who would suspect the little girl with the big blue eyes?

With a satisfied smirk, she dived off a low thatched roof, landing softly into a stack of hay, then rolling onto the firm ground before pressing herself against the wall. Once she was sure it was safe, she dashed down the alleyway. Weaving in and out of the late night crowd, she finally saw her destination. A burly man stood at the entrance, arms crossed over his chest as his eyes scanned the raucous patrons. She took advantage of his momentary distraction as one particular man tried to push past him in a drunken stupor.

She ducked inside and made her way to the back of the tavern where her father waited. He sat with his back against the wall, taking a large swig of ale from the wooden mug in his hands. His oldest and most trusted friend sat next to him - a man she had grown to love as an uncle, though they were far from being blood relatives.

Both men appeared relaxed as they enjoyed each other's company, laughing and sharing stories. But she knew that underneath their calm exteriors lay dangerous men. Her father's eyes were keen and calculating. From the moment he had stepped foot in the tavern, she knew that he had mapped out all the entrances and exits and studied every person in the room. Though he appeared intoxicated, her father would never compromise his inhibitions.

It was an act - a game she was too young to understand but was starting to learn. Sometimes things were not always what they seemed. And that's where she came in.

"Papa, Zio Mario," she called out as she neared them.

Her father's eyes softened when he saw her. "Gianni," he whispered, placing a kiss on her forehead as she settled on his lap. "Did you retrieve what I asked?"

"Yes, papa," she answered obediently, placing the book in his waiting hands.

"That's my little aquilina."

He stuffed it in a hidden pocket inside his coat then reached over to the table to hand her a small pouch filled with her favorite treat. She took it gladly, quickly unwrapping it and taking out the dried, purple fruit sprinkled lightly with sugar. She sighed in content, the soft flesh of the date melting in her mouth as she savored the rare delicacy. Sugared treats were uncommon in Italy and Gianni could only guess what her father had bartered for the small bag of fruit. She took great care in wrapping it again and saving the rest for later.

With a satisfied sigh, she snuggled up against her father. His strong arms cocooned her small body, and she relished his warmth. Her eyes began to grow heavy as the talk between her father and Mario turned to more serious matters and, eventually, to her.

"Nico," Mario whispered to her father. "Gianni will grow up to be a beautiful woman. Are you sure this is the life you want for her?"

"I know she deserves better," her father answered tersely. "But with her mother gone, this is all I can give her."

Mario seemed to understand her father's hesitation, and his voice turned to a more jovial tone. "I still don't understand why you insisted on giving your little girl a masculine name," he said teasingly.

She felt her father relax at the change in subject and a laugh rumbled deep in his chest. Gianni knew her name was always an amusing topic between the two though she had yet to understand why. What did it matter if it was masculine or feminine?

"I've told you many times, my friend, that a name does not make the person. The person makes the name. Gianni will grow up to be beautiful, yes. But she will also be strong and independent. I want her to know that she does not have to rely on any man to be happy."

"Any man except her father," Mario chuckled.

"No man is ever good enough for your little girl," her father joked, though Gianni caught a pensive undertone to his words. He let out a long sigh, adjusting her in his arms so that she could be more comforable. His body tensed, and when he spoke again there was no mistaking the serious weight of his words. "But...there will come a time when even _I_won't be around to protect her."

"Nico..." Mario began to admonish before being cut off.

"We live in a dangerous world, my friend," her father replied sagely. "And ours is a dangerous line of work. I want you to promise me that if anything happens to me, you will do all you can to take care of her."

"I will promise only if you stop talking such nonsense," Mario answered. "Now, come on. One last drink before we head out."

At that, her father let out another laugh before reaching for his mug again. And as he finally relaxed, so did she. Sleep quickly began to overtake her, and she closed her eyes knowing that her father was right there to protect her if anything happened. She felt warm and full and content.

But most of all, she thought as she nuzzled into his arms, she felt safe.


	2. Chapter 2

**Three years later...**

Gianni took a small bite of her apple as she leaned against the doorframe of the old church she was taking shelter in. It was pouring rain outside, the thick sheet making it hard to see more than a few paces in front of her. She looked out at the empty market in front of her. The city of Siena seemed to be deserted amidst the unexpected storm.

She let out a frustrated sigh. Something just didn't feel quite right. She attributed the feeling to the fact that her father would start to worry if she didn't get home soon. Though she was allowed free reign in Siena as part of her training, she was only 9 years old, and a rainstorm was not an excuse to arrive home late.

Gianni anxiously shifted from one foot to the other. The basket she'd taken to the market felt remarkably heavy despite it being nearly empty. After a few minutes, she decided she couldn't wait any longer. She stashed the basket behind the nearest pew, then took off into the rain.

Other days, Gianni would've scaled the rooftops and taken a more scenic route back to the other side of the city where her home was located. But today there was a sense of urgency in her movements. What started out as a quick walk through the rain quickly changed into a full-on sprint as she neared the humble home she shared with her father.

Her heart jumped to her throat when she noticed the door to the main entryway had been busted open. She resisted the urge to yell out for her father and instead resorted to the training her father was so carefully instilling in her. Brushing back strands of wet hair that were plastered to her face, she leaned down to slip the hidden dagger from her boot.

She quietly stepped inside, noting the splintered furniture that was scattered around the front corridor. Her head snapped up at the muffled noises that were coming from her father's study. Light steps cautiously avoided the pieces of furniture as she made her way down the hall. The door to the study was ajar, and Gianni pressed herself against the wall, discretely peeking inside through the crack between the door and the frame.

The hilt of the dagger dug into her palm as she watched her father get thrown up against the wall. One side of his face was covered in blood, and he let out a growl full of rage that she felt in her very heart. The three men holding him up struggled as he attempted to fight, but their hold on him was too strong.

"Where is it?" a menacing voice demanded in a foreign accent, and it was only then that Gianni noticed that a fourth man was in the room. A dark robe covered his husky figure. This was a man used to having others do his dirty work. "I tracked it down to you. Where are you hiding it?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," her father grunted, and the third man shifted his weight so that his forearm crushed her father's throat.

"I see that you're going to be difficult. Perhaps another beating will change your mind?" the robed man continued. He spoke so casually, almost like he was asking for the weather instead of ordering a beating.

"Do...whatever you want," her father wheezed even as the men delivered the blows to his stomach. "You...won't get...anything from me."

"Are you sure?" The man took a step closer to him. "I will give you one last chance to tell me where the journal is."

But her father maintained his ground. He spat in the man's face, the mixture of blood and saliva running down the man's neatly cropped beard.

"I'm tired of this game, Assassin," the man replied blandly with a bored sigh as he wiped the spit off his face. "If you are willing to die for this, so be it. Just know that we _will _ find it, and we will _always _win." He waved a dismissive hand, and the third man brandished a knife.

"No!" she yelled, throwing the door open but it was too late.

The knife sunk deep into her father's chest. Blood gushed from the wound, the deep crimson staining his white robes. He clutched at his chest, taking a staggering step forward as the men finally released him.

"Run," he gasped.

His eyes silently pleaded with her to understand. Telling her, without a sound, that he loved her and would do anything to protect her...but that she needed to leave. To leave him behind and save herself. And she needed to do it now. Her gaze lingered briefly over the man who had wielded the knife, and she willed herself to memorize every last detail of his face. Then she threw her dagger, the blade slicing across the man's cheek.

"Get out of here!" her father growled. With one last fuel-raged effort, he lunged at his attackers before they could grab her. "Run!"

The room upended into chaos. Strangled shouts filled the room, and blades whizzed through the air. Gianni dodged into the hallway. She vaulted over the broken furniture, rushing outside and disappearing in the rain.

Obeying her father's last words to her, she ran. Her muscles and lungs burned with exertion as she trekked across the mud-filled roads, but anger and adrenaline fueled her body.

She didn't stop. The need to reach her destination outweighed everything else. Even when the walls of Monteriggioni finally came into view, she ran until she reached the door to the villa at the top of the hill and then pounded on it with the last of her strength.

"It's Papa," she whispered at the man who opened the door - the one man who she knew would help. "He's dead."

And then she fell down to her knees and gratefully succumbed to the numbing darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Monteriggioni, 1469**

She sat on the roof of Villa Auditore, knees hugged to her chest. Her long hair cascaded down her back, dark strands fluttering with the occasional gust of wind. A mass of feelings weighed heavily on her heart, though her face betrayed nothing.

An eagle soared above her before landing on one of the guard towers. Below, the people of Monteriggioni milled around town enjoying the beautiful day.

How could the birds still sing? How could the sun still come out? How could _life _continue now that her father was dead?

"Did your father ever tell you how he and I met?" Mario asked, walking up behind her.

She hadn't heard his footsteps but then again he wouldn't be a very good assassin if she had. She said nothing, just shook her head at him as he sat down next to her.

"He saved my life," Mario continued. "We were both contracted to kill the same target, and we took it as a challenge to see who would get to him first." He paused, a smile coming to his face as he recalled the memory. "I was so consumed with beating Nico that I hadn't noticed he had fallen behind. I arrived at the palazzo only to realize I had just walked into a trap. Your father had seen it and tried to warn me, but I was too stubborn to listen, thinking he only wanted to slow me down. I found myself surrounded by about fifty guards. I took the first few down easy, but then they all charged at once. And that's when Nico stepped in. He set off smoke bombs. By the time the smoke had cleared, all the guards were lying around me either dead or dying."

She frowned at him, unable to believe such an exaggerated story.

"It's true," Mario told her, almost as if he had read her mind. "Took them all out as an assassin should - unseen and without a sound. That day marked the beginning of our long friendship." He paused again, reaching into his pocket and holding something in his fist. "Gianni, you may have your mother's looks but those eyes...it's like seeing my best friend again. You truly are your father's daughter."

He moved closer and finally opened his fist. She let out a soft gasp of surprise. It was her father's medallion. A circular, metal medallion branded with the symbol of the assassins. Her father had carried it with him for luck, and she would always find him flicking it around like a coin. Mario had drilled a small hole in the medallion and threaded a thin leather strap through it. He placed it around her neck, and she grasped it in her hand, swallowing hard and blinking back the tears stinging her eyes.

"You went to Siena," she whispered thickly. "Did you kill them?"

Mario gently shook his head. "They were gone by the time we arrived. But I know who was responsible."

"Then what are you doing here? Why didn't you track them down?" she asked, the surge of emotions angrily erupting.

"I realized it's not my battle to fight," Mario replied, unfazed by her accusing outburst.

She nodded in understanding as she got to her feet. "I'm ready. Let's go find them."

"I will only reveal the name of the person responsible for your father's death when you are truly ready. Not before."

"But the coward is out there right now!"

"Don't let the anger consume you, Gianni," he said calmly. "You have much to learn before you can confront this man. Be patient and your time will come."

She stared at him furiously, hands fisting at her sides. And then she thought about her father. The man who had raised her and taught her humility, honor, and confidence. The man who had loved her enough to give his life for her. She sat back down, grudgingly accepting that Mario only spoke the truth.

"So what do I do until then?" she asked quietly.

"You train. You get better and stronger. You'll know when the time is right. But for now...for now you mourn."

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into him, grateful for the comfort that he was offering. Around them, the birds sang, the sun shone brightly in the sky, and life continued.

There would be no more bedtime stories. No more kisses on the cheek or warm hugs. She would never again hear his laugh. Never again see his smile or smell his leathery musk. Her father was gone, and he was never coming back.

For the first time since she watched her father die, she cried.

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The next few years were spent training with Mario and his men. Every day she would wake up before sunrise, and every night she would go to bed late into the night. She was stubbornly determined to live up to her father's name, and she didn't disappoint. Every swing of her sword, every throw of a dagger, every free run through the town was practiced over and over until she had perfected the skill.

It became an obsession...a _need _to be the best. Failure was not an option.

And when she wasn't outside, she was inside, taking over Mario's study and reading through a myriad of subjects in many different languages. Her father had once told her that he'd rather have an intelligent daughter than an ignorant one, and Gianni had retained his love for the written word. Books were her comfort and luxury.

One particular night found her curled into an armchair, a thick book on her lap that she was reading by the light of a single candle when Mario walked into the study. She immediately stood, noting her place and closing the book before carefully placing it back on the shelf.

"Gianni," he said, leaning casually against his desk with a smile on his face. "I have your first assignment."


	4. Chapter 4

**Monteriggioni, 1476**

Gianni heaved a soft sigh as she eased her horse up the pathway to Monteriggioni. It had been a long journey, but she was finally home. She couldn't wait to strip off her travel clothes and lie in the warmth of her soft bed. She'd been away for far too long. Though Zio Mario had been expecting her to be out for at least two months, she had managed to complete her mission in only one and even then most of it had been done traveling.

She quickly stabled her horse and made her way into the village. A smile touched her lips as Villa Auditore came into view. It was good to be home. She decided against using the front door because of the late hour, not wanting to cause an unnecessary alarm.

Leaving her mud-caked boots outside, she made the long ascent to her bedroom window, the light of the full moon easily guiding her. The window was open but Gianni was too tired to question it as she heaved herself into the room. She threw her coat on a nearby chair and began to carefully remove all of her blades before placing them in one of the drawers of her nightstand. Once she was sure they were all safely stored, she removed her pants, leaving on only her long travel shirt that reached to mid-thigh.

Pulling back the covers, Gianni crawled into her bed with a weary groan. Just as she was settling in, however, a long, muscular arm circled around her waist. She froze, instinctively reaching for the dagger she kept hidden under her pillow only to realize it wasn't there. She cursed under her breath, blaming her inattentiveness on the fact that she was tired.

It was things like this that got you killed. Though she noticed, rather belatedly, that whoever this stranger in her bed was, he was definitely not there to kill her. Her eyes trailed over the arm and up to the broad, and very naked, shoulder. He seemed to be in a deep sleep, nuzzling closer to her with what seemed like a very satisfied grunt.

"Mario really knows how to take care of his guests," the deep voice rumbled, and the man looked up at her with a sleepy grin.

Gianni hissed angrily at what the man was implying, then brought up her legs and pushed off his chest sending them both flying off the bed in opposite directions. She rolled off gracefully, reaching into her drawer in the process and grabbing a blade. The man landed with a loud thud and a very surprised and curse-ridden yelp.

"Who are you?" she asked, turning the blade in her hand so that it was hidden by the length of her forearm.

"Who are _you_?" he countered, struggling to disengage himself from the tangle of blankets before standing up irritably. "And what are you doing in my bed?"

"_Your_ bed? This is _my _bed. I will ask you one more time. Who are you?"

"Or what? You'll kill me if I don't tell you?" he scoffed.

"If that's what it takes." She took a menacing step closer to him, gripping the blade in her hand.

"Silence," Mario's voice bellowed as he walked into room with a lighted torch.

It was only then that Gianni got a good look at the stranger as the torch illuminated the room. She was surprised to find that the man was young, maybe only a couple of years older than her. He looked strong and athletic, dark hair falling casually over his face as he stood there bare-chested and wearing only a pair of loose pants. It took only a few seconds to easily come to the conclusion that he relied on his handsome features to always get his way.

"Gi...Aquilina, what are you doing here?"

Gianni frowned at the use of her father's nickname for her - a name she hadn't heard in a long time - but said nothing. Mario had a reason for not using her given name, and she figured it had something to do with the stranger in the room.

"The...errand that you sent me on has been taken care of," she replied, not wanting to give away too much information.

Mario gave her a curt nod. "And a month in advance? Excellent."

"So am I wrong in assuming she wasn't sent here to warm my bed?" the stranger asked, clearing his throat. "Forgive me, but the way you're dressed..."

Gianni threw him a glare, noting from his amused expression that he was not sorry at all. Mario let out a hearty laugh, taking off his robe and tossing it to her. She quickly wrapped it around herself, face burning in embarrassment at having forgotten she was only wearing a thin shirt as a nightgown.

"This is Ezio, son of my...late brother, Giovanni," Mario explained. Gianni had heard very little about Mario's family in Florence and could only assume the worst at their sudden appearance in Monteriggioni. "He and his mother and sister will be staying for a while. I wasn't expecting you so soon, or I would've prepared another room for Ezio."

"I should've sent word," she replied apologetically. "I'll gather my things and stay in the village."

"Nonsense," Mario chastised. "We'll clear out one of the rooms downstairs. God knows we need to start cleaning and upkeeping this place before it falls apart on us. Let's just all go to bed, and we will work this out in the morning. Good night, Ezio."

Gianni followed Mario out of the room, not even bothering to look back at Ezio.

"What are you plotting?" she whispered to Mario once they were back downstairs. "You deliberately avoided using my name."

"Ezio has no idea he comes from a family of assassins," Mario said. "He will need to be taught gradually what is expected of him."

"And what does that have to do with me?"

Mario put a hand on her shoulder as they stopped outside her temporary room. "You will be the one teaching him."


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Just a quick note to say that the ACII timeline has been changed a bit. For the sake of this story, after Ezio's father and brothers are killed, he heads straight to Monteriggioni. I wanted Gianni to be there when he kills Alberti (which will happen in a few chapters). :)**

**Enjoy!**

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The sound of swords clanking and men grunting filled her ears as she watched the training pit below. She still didn't know what exactly Mario had up his sleeve. Sitting on the roof of Villa Auditore with the hood of her robe pulled over to cover her face was not her idea of training Ezio. But she decided to play along, curious as to Mario's plan for his nephew.

Truthfully, she could think of better things to do rather than watching this nonsense. Gianni had always thought of fighting as an art form and one of the few things she actually prided herself in. There was a sort of gracefulness to it whenever each action was executed properly. Like a beautiful dance...if a dance included swordplay and punches. However, it was obvious that Ezio had never been taught how to properly fight. As the training session ended, all she could do was shake her head at the beating Mario's poor nephew had just taken.

She climbed down the back of the villa, then slipped into Mario's study where the man sat at his desk waiting for her. But before she even had the chance to bring up Ezio's session, Mario interrupted her with a question.

"How's Maria?"

Since Gianni had gotten back to Monteriggioni, Mario had tasked her with taking Ezio's mother all of her meals. The bereaved woman never left her room, and Gianni had to carry the plates of food across the villa from the kitchen downstairs to the corner room upstairs.

"The same," Gianni replied with a slight frown. "She's still not eating, only picking at her food."

"Have you talked to her?"

"About what? She's still hasn't said a word. She just sits there, sitting on the edge of her bed and clutching these feathers in her hands."

"Just keep doing what you're doing. I know Maria appreciates it," Mario said gratefully, then motioned for her to take a seat across the desk from him before changing the subject. "So what did you think about Ezio?"

"I think his session today speaks for itself," she said casually.

"Yes, but I want to know what _you _think."

Gianni let out a long sigh and leaned forward in her chair so that her arms were resting on the desk. "The rest of us have made the sacrifices necessary to earn the robes we wear. Ezio has done nothing." Her eyes trailed over her left hand, her ring finger branded because Mario had prevented her from having it amputated. "He's too impulsive and hot-headed, he fights with anger instead of using it, and he'd rather give orders than listen to them."

"I agree that Ezio has much to learn, but he comes from a long line of assassins. He has the skills. He just needs to learn how to use them." He cleared his throat before continuing. "Keep in mind that he's still shaken by what happened to his father and brothers. His anger is what's giving him the _need _to fight."

"He didn't look too upset when he thought I was sent to the room to warm his bed," she mumbled.

Mario gave her a sly smile. "I'm afraid that all Auditore men tend to lose their senses when they are in the presence of a beautiful woman."

Gianni rolled her eyes at him. "If you're trying to get me to ease up on Ezio by offering compliments, it's not going to work."

"Just give him time, Gianni. He only just found out about his assassin blood, and it was his first training session. He can only improve from here, right?"

"I'll give him the benefit of the doubt for your sake." She drummed her fingers on the desk. "So when will I actually start training him?"

"In time," Mario answered cryptically. "For now, you just continue as you've been doing. If my nephew's anything like my brother...anything like me, he'll come around soon enough."

Gianni nodded, then made the move to stand, but Mario stopped her.

"There's something else I need to talk to you about. Ezio keeps insisting on moving to Spain with Maria and Claudia."

"Why? What's in Spain?"

"I don't know," Mario sighed tiredly as he rubbed his temples. "But I know the only reason he hasn't left yet is because Alberti, the man who betrayed my brother, is still in Firenze."

"And Ezio will not leave until he kills Alberti," she concluded.

Her respect for Ezio was raised just the tiniest notch. She knew all too well that thirst for revenge. Only she was still waiting for hers while Ezio practically had his quarry right at his fingertips.

"I believe it is Ezio's destiny to remain here in Italy," Mario continued. "I'm hoping his time at Monteriggioni will sway his mind and - "

Mario was interrupted by a loud knocking at his door. He shot her a quizzical look but she shrugged, quickly covering her face with the hood as Mario bid the person entrance. Marco, the leader of the mercenary group that resided in Monteriggioni, quickly walked in. He raised a hand to her in greeting before turning to Mario.

"One of my runners just informed me that Vieri and his men have left San Gimignano and are headed in this direction."

"That boy just doesn't know when to quit, does he?" Mario commented with a shake of his head. "Very well. Prepare your men. We will intercept them at the crossroads."

"Anything I can do?" Gianni asked but Mario shook his head..

"Not today, Gianni. Vieri's only here to taunt, just like he's done practically every day since Ezio arrived. Marco's men are just for show."

She left reluctantly but knew full well that if Mario needed her, he would send for her. She stopped by her room to change out of her robes, then made her way to the kitchen to prepare Maria's meal.

Maybe today would be the day the woman would finally eat.


End file.
